The Horror of Our Love
by remains
Summary: Will is drinking to forget his stint in the asylum and to block out any notion of Hannibal.


The telephone rings and rings. Will doesn't bother to check the caller ID. It goes to voicemail and after a moment a little red light blinks behind him. A half hour passes with Will tossing whiskey back in the dark and silence. A vibration on his work desk did not draw his attention but ten minutes later the sound of a car creeping to a stop in his gravel driveway did. He placed the bottle of Jameson beside the couch next to the end table. He turned on this TV and a knock at the door came. He did not respond but the knocker did not leave.

"Will?" the voice sent chills through Will. He closed his eyes but heard an awful heavy whirring noise. Moonlight from outside shone in when the unlocked door opened.

Quiet footsteps pressed against the hardwood. The door closed behind the footsteps, the dogs only perked their ears up and fell back asleep.

"Hello, Will," the nightmare voice came, an implacable European accent behind unique lips. Will opened his eyes and the whirring sound decreased in its intensity. Will licked his lips and took his glasses off. Setting them on the end table, he brushed hair out of his face.

"Hannibal," Will said.

"Why are you sitting in the dark?" Hannibal asked. The TV was on a homeshopping channel.

"So you were the one calling," Will said still facing the TV. Hannibal stepped out from around the couch and found an adjacent arm chair.

"It's been three months and I've heard nothing from you. Alana tells me you're on the verge of neglecting your dogs. I've given you space but you need help," Hannibal said, comfortably in the dark glow.

"Help? From who, you? I can't very well talk to anyone else, can I? You made that absolutely clear," Will said getting aggravated.

"I'm not stopping you," Hannibal said.

"Am I supposed to open a new can of worms by accusing you of being who you really are? No one is very keen on taking me serious on that note," Will said shifting on the couch. Fuck if Hannibal saw him drinking. He knew Hannibal could smell it anyway. He pulled the Jameson back out and filled his tumbler with it.

"Maybe you should stop," Hannibal said, concern creeping in the corners of his eyes.

"Don't you dare judge me," Will said glaring at Hannibal. Hannibal bit the inside of his lip and watched Will knock back the glass.

"Why are you here? It's late," Will said pouring another.

"To be with you," Hannibal said plainly.

"I'm not very good company," Will said.

"I don't believe that's true."

"Why can't you leave me alone?"

"And let you drown yourself? I want to help you." Hannibal stood up and grabbed the bottle out of Will's hands.

"You don't get to tell me what to do in my own house," Will said not bothering to fight for the booze.

"I think you know you're not okay," Hannibal said.

"I have recently been able to think in my own voice again. If you come back into my life I may never stop the audio hallucinations," Will said lazily sinking into his couch. The hair on his exposed legs stood up with goose bumps, the room was very cold.

"Have the visual hallucinations ceased?" Hannibal asked sitting down on the opposite end of Will's couch.

"No. But I don't follow them anymore," Will said looking at Hannibal's face changing shades of blue and white.

"What audio hallucinations bother you the most? Is it horrific noises or disembodied voices? My voice?" Hannibal sat carefully sideways. Will's chest tightened and he swallowed.

"Y-your voice and the noise you make," Will said. He blinked slowly. It brought Hannibal pleasure to know his voice still plagued Will and he hid this.

"What do I say? What noise do I make?"

"Its this whirring noise like a helicopter blade but not bleating. It's a noise from the dark, always growing bigger. Maybe like a giant blender. Or deep underwater like a motorboat. It circles me sometimes," Will said searching for a description.

"And what does my voice say?" Hannibal asked watching Will's inebriated mind at work.

"Just anything," Will said feeling hot.

"Anything? Is it coherent Will? What time of day does this usually occur?" Hannibal could smell a lie.

"It's clear. I don't know, it happens randomly all day," Will said shifting in his seat.

"What kinds of things do I say? Am I telling you to do something? Am I criticizing or comforting?" Hannibal probed.

"I don't know. All of it," Will said wanting another drink.

"You do know and you're afraid to tell me. Are you embarrassed Will?" Hannibal asked.

"I'm going to bed now," Will said standing up. He started towards his bed but tripped on a dog. Hannibal caught Will from behind, his arms wrapping around his back to his chest. Will froze with Hannibal's hands on his sides.

At night was when the voice came. Now instead of being in his head, he was in the presence of it. He was petrified it would have the dialogue he usually heard.

"Tell me what I say to you," Hannibal whispered into Will's ear.

"You convince me of things. Let me go to sleep," Will said trying to shrug Hannibal away. Hannibal let go, hardly satisfied but he didn't press further. Will carefully got to his bed and Hannibal turned off the TV.

"Good night Will," he said closing the door,

An hour of solace for Will until Hannibal's voice started breathing in his head again.

'_It feels good to kill. I know, I do it all the time.'_

"Please go," Will tried.

'_You liked it Will. I'll help you do it again.' _Will did not respond and the voice was quiet for a few minutes. He drifted into a dreamlike state, still lucid and almost asleep.

'_Listen to me Will. What else do you crave? Don't deny yourself your own flesh.'_

Will felt dry mouth from the booze and hazy acceptance for the orders.

'_Feeling a longing for another person is okay. Its okay to imagine me…. Good Will, get yourself to sleep.'_

He gripped himself tighter and began slowly. Images crossed his head. The poetry Hannibal had given Will to get out of jail was tucked under his mattress and now he brought it to his mind.

'_I'll do it again for you if you like. We can do one together.'_ A beat. Will getting harder.

'_You're afraid to ask, but I'll eat your heart. Come here and let me get a knife to your throat.'_

Will imagined Hannibal in a preconceived bedroom that was not his own. He looked a little disheveled, some hair hanging in his face, his shirt slightly unbuttoned. A thin knife was in his hand, he gradually approached Will. Will laid vulnerable on a big, soft bed. A leather collar hanging around his neck. Hannibal bent over him and tugged a connecting leash, pulling him close.

The fantasy didn't get him off. Dirty whispers could not combat his alcohol soaked brain. He fell asleep frustrated, embarrassed and cold.


End file.
